


For A Good Cause

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fundraisers, Gunge, Light Bondage, No Sex, POV Third Person, Wet & Messy, dunk tank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A charitable fundraiser is underway to help pay for the damages caused in "Breach", and Team RWBY is volunteered to participate in some wet and/or messy activities. Lighthearted oneshot.</p>
<p>Basically my own version of BloodGulchBlue's "Sweet buzzing", Chapter 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For A Good Cause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BloodGulchBlue2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodGulchBlue2/gifts).



> Yeah, so this is basically a completely detached one-shot inspired by BloodGulchBlue's "Sweet buzzing", Chapter 2 (The Fundraiser). WAM is not really a forté of mine, but messiness for charity is a niche interest I have, so I hurriedly wrote this out. Actually pretty tame, I think.

In the days that followed the Grimm attack on Vale City Square, or simply "The Breach" as everyone began calling it, there were a slew of passive-aggressive critiques of the performances of Beacon Academy's huntsmen. _Yes_ , everyone appreciated that Hunters and Huntresses, many of them inexperienced teenagers, had risked life and limb for the good people of Vale. _Yes_ , everyone was very impressed that they had stopped a surprise Grimm attack with not a single civilian fatality. _Of_ course nobody was saying they knew how to the job of a Huntress better than the Huntresses themselves.

_But could you possibly have done it without causing so much collateral damage?_

Yang let out a growl as she closed the umpteenth editorial to that effect on her Scroll, hurtling the innocent electronic device into a pile of pillows on the other side of her bed. _Yes_ , she had collapsed a few buildings, but only because she was being tossed into them by _gigantic soulless monsters_! Why did absolutely nobody seem to take that into consideration?

Yang's malaise was being mirrored by several of her fellow students. Ruby seemed to take it the worst, every melodramatic anecdote about the damages wrought by a stray round weighing heavily on the young Team Leader. Ditto with Pyrrha and Jaune. Blake and Ren seemed more withdrawn than usual, while Weiss was ablaze with righteous indignation that her performance should be judged so imperfect.

__

'Well, at least Nora doesn't seemed phased by any of this.'

It was late in the evening when their Scrolls alighted simultaneously with an incoming message from Glynda Goodwitch. It informed them that Beacon would be hosting a fundraiser, with the proceeds going to a charity for citizens whose property had been damaged by the Breach. They were all invited to register as volunteers for a number of fundraising events, or to come up with their own. Even in textual form, Yang could hear Goodwitch's tone indicating that this wasn't _really_ a request.

The blonde sighed, head on her mattress, eyes settling on the shattered Moon overhead. She _would_ like to do something to help everyone the Grimm had hurt, though she wasn't a fan of the implication that they were partially responsible for it.

She let out a stifled groan and rolled over. It was good PR, a trust-building exercise between Huntresses and the people they were meant to protect. With one last dejected, defeated sigh, Yang re-opened the message and began scrolling through the list of activities…..

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I agreed to be your _partner_ , not to let myself be humiliated by an angry mob," complained Weiss, for the hundredth time that day. Ruby let out an indistinct noise of exacerbation and took Weiss' hand in her own, dragging the heiress across the fairgrounds. The fundraiser was being held on the same grounds that would host the fair during the Vytal Festival, and they were taking advantage of some of the facilities already set up.

"It's just, like, twenty minutes," pleaded Ruby, having already exhausted every appeal to Weiss' better nature, tradition of duty, philanthropic reputation and sense of fun. Admittedly _something_ in that smörgåsbord of arguments had worked, because Weiss was with her, just none-too-happy about it. _'And what else is new'._

Weiss, not that she would ever admit it to Ruby, was somewhat relieved at the Huntress' choice of activity. In the grand scheme of things, getting dropped into a pool of water over and over again, while hardly pleasant, was far from the worst thing they could've been drafted for. Their station was effectively a two-person dunk tank, comprised of two hinged seats each overhanging a large plastic tank of water, with spring-loaded targets serving as the triggering mechanisms. The tank was about six feet deep, which meant she'd get completely submerged every time she was dropped into it, but it was also just water. Which was more than could be said for some of the other stations. It was even a bright and sunny day, where a swim would've been appealing (under other, less embarrassing circumstances, of course).

Ruby let go of her hand as they reached the stand, darting off to chat with the uniformed first-year girl who was running it. Weiss suppressed a minor pang of envy for the students who didn't have to put themselves out like this. But it had been _Weiss Schnee's_ image splashed across newspapers and television screens, Myrtenaster in hand as she dispatched Grimm with cool efficiency. Even if her collateral damage had been comparatively minimal, the masses seemed to think it was appropriate for her to show some remorse over _how exactly_ she'd saved their ungrateful hides.

Her conversation with the attendant over, Ruby fearlessly lead the way, as she always did. The team leader was dressed in a modest one-piece swimsuit - dark red, of course - scampering up a small ladder behind the stall before perching herself on the hinged seat. She glanced over her shoulder at Weiss - puppy eyes beckoning her to come follow - and Weiss obliged after yet another groan. Her own outfit was similar in style to Ruby's - a one-piece swimsuit dark blue in color - though it did show off significantly more skin. Truth be told Weiss had almost not packed it - Beacon didn't have a swim team and Weiss preferred bikini-style swimwear when not exerting herself - though she was now immensely grateful for her own over-preparedness. There was no need to indulge this crowd by letting them ogle her any more than absolutely necessary.

Weiss hauled herself up the ladder, staring cautiously down at water beneath her. The front of the tank was transparent, so she'd be almost fully visible once submerged. Her target, a small bull's-eye-style thing to her immediate left, was positioned a good ten-to-fifteen feet behind a line taped on the grass where contestants were supposed to throw from. If Ruby's ramblings were to be believed it actually took a significant amount of force to trigger the dunking mechanism, which was a small victory. The seat itself was almost precariously small and Weiss struggled to sit down in a ladylike fashion, her toes just brushing against the surface of the water as she did, the liquid cool to the touch. Only from this angle could she make out the text stamped on the inside of the tank - KEEP HANDS IN LAP AT ALL TIMES - presumably some boilerplate disclaimer affixed out of concern for those without protective Auras. A small crowd was already beginning to form, helped in no small part by the dunk tank's prominent position on the fairground.

"On your left," announced the girl running the booth, one arm sweeping out dramatically beside her, "is the wonderful Ruby Rose, leader of the already-famous Team RWBY!" Ruby waved excitedly to the crowd and flashed a toothy grin, which Weiss annoyingly noted was entirely unfeigned. Ruby proceeded to settle into the expected posture, hands clasped politely in her lap, nervous anticipation causing her to bounce slightly in her seat.

"And to your right, the Ice Queen herself, heiress to the fortunes of the Schnee Dust Company, the Snow Angel, Ms. _Weiss Schnee_!" Weiss raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, mildly concerned that the faces turned her way looked less excited and more predatory. "Balls are two lien each or three for five. Now who wants to have honor or being the first to get these ladies wet?"

There was a small, chaotic surge of activity as the line that had been amorphously forming snapped rigidly into place, rapidly lengthening until it vanished behind another nearby stall. Simply due to proximity the majority of the fair-goers were the students of Beacon Academy or the visitors from the other schools, though a considerable number of Valers had made the trek to the fairgrounds, too.

A five-lien note was exchanged and the first person - a third-year Beacon student, apparently - was handed three balls. "And who would you like to dunk first?" asked the booth organizer, projecting her voice so as to lure in even more passer-bys.

"I'm going to go for Weiss," he said with a grin, positioning himself just on the edge of the tape in front of her target.

"He's going for Weiss Schnee, everyone!" There were a few cheers of encouragement from the line. Weiss glanced over at Ruby, who offered her a supportive smile, watching with as much excitement as the rest of the crowd, her legs kicking eagerly.

The first ball went wide, eliciting a few teases from the line. The second actually hit the target, and Weiss' breath caught in her throat as she braced for an imminent drop. But the ball bounced harmlessly off the bull's-eye, earning a few groans from the crowd. The third, final ball was hurled with an Aura-enhanced throw, crossing the distance from line to target faster than Weiss could track and sending her plummeting into the water without a moment's mental preparation.

She let out a small shriek as the seat dropped out from under her, gravity sending her crashing into the cool water below. She flailed about in the water for a few seconds, utterly disoriented, before regaining her senses and pushing herself out of the water. The crowd was still cheering when she surfaced, her turned back hiding her blush as she heaved herself out of the tank, the seat righting itself as the booth manager reset the target. Long white hair - freed from its ponytail for the occasion - plastered itself against her face. The cheers quieted only when she was back on the seat again.

"A reminder that the use of Aura for dunking purposes is _seriously frowned upon_ ," stated the girl running the booth, though nobody missed that she didn't say ' _forbidden_ '.

__

_Twenty minutes, Weiss._

The second in line was a young woman from Haven, her dark black uniform standing out in the colors of the fairground. 

"I'd like to go for Weiss," said the girl, as she handed over a five-lien note.

"You sure? I mean, Ruby Rose here is still completely dry," said the supervisor, her tone that of mild confusion. For emphasis Ruby stuck her head out and waved, as if reminding people she still existed.

"Yeah, but Weiss cut me off in the cafeteria line, then said I was being whiny, and I think it's time for some payback," replied the ball-thrower.

She hit the target dead-on with her first toss, sending Weiss plummeting into the water again. This time the heiress was prepared for it, at least, and pulled herself out efficiently. More cheers, and a devilish grin on the thrower's face. The girl running the booth seemed to be enforcing a 'one-dunk-per-customer' rule, which was a small mercy, leaving two balls unused. Though the fact that her victimizer went straight to the back of the line again was somewhat worrying.

Ruby finally got her turn next, dropping into the water with an excited 'wheee', only to pop out of the water with an ear-to-ear grin on her face, racing to get back on her seat. But for every person who tossed balls at Ruby three more went for Weiss, and nobody threw half-heartedly. The supervisor eventually gave up on trying to re-direct the crowd's attention to Ruby, even when that slowed the pace down, so focused was everyone on taking Weiss down a peg.

"She called me an idiot in front of the entire History class."

"She said my sparring match was like watching a drunken peasant fight."

"Her company is oppressing my people all over Atlas!"

_Dust, how many people have some petty blood-feud against me _? thought Weiss, as she pulled herself out of the water yet again. She'd stopped counting how many times she'd been dunked once the tally reached the twenties.__

Ruby, to her credit, did her utmost to draw attention to herself, calling out people in line, people passing by, teasing and taunting in her energetic way. After every drop she'd bounce back with a grin on her face, shaking her head so water droplets flew from her hair. Weiss, for her part, was practically mute, resigned to her fate as ball after ball was lobbed her way. It didn't take a genius to notice she was enjoying herself far less than Ruby, but that did little to deter the crowd. If anything, it made her all the more fun to dunk.

Forty minutes later - popular demand having greatly extend the length of their stay - the attendant called for a break, as the Huntresses were visibly chilled. Not to mention so much water had been splashed out of the tank by this point someone needed to find a hose and top it off again. Promises were made that other Huntresses would soon be taking their places, though the crowd largely dispersed once the most inviting target had vanished.

"Man, I didn't think it would be so fun," said Ruby, toweling herself off in a buzz of energy. "I mean, it gets so _tense_ , just sitting there, waiting and waiting, 'cuz you never know which toss is going to dunk you, so it's always a surprise.

"I suppose," Weiss replied with forced neutrality, trying to arrange her hair in a vaguely-presentable fashion. "Though they didn't seem to miss as much when they were aiming for me."

Ruby was visibly subdued by Weiss' words, her toweling motions slowing to a crawl as she glanced at Weiss. "I'm… kinda sorry about that," mumbled Ruby, sliding up into Weiss' personal space. "I kind of got a bit of a mean vibe from some people in line. Like they didn't just want to raise money."

"Perhaps," said Weiss, not wanting to sound like she was trawling for sympathy any more than she already had. "The important thing is that we _did_ raise a lot of money."

"Yeah. _Yeah!_ I mean, Weiss, you raised like… three times as much as me! That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" She pressed her lips against Weiss' in a short but forceful kiss, a resounding _smack_ ringing in the heiress' ears. "Come on, let's go find Nora's booth!"

And with that, Ruby vanished into the crowd, leaving Weiss scrambling to catch up with her. She replayed the kiss in her head, a small warmth blossoming in her chest. Perhaps that look of genuine pride in Ruby's eyes made it worth it after all.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's about _helping the poor_ , Blake," Yang implored, trying to mimic her sister's puppy-dog eyes. Unfortunately for her she wasn't half as good at it as Ruby was, and Blake was twice as unsympathetic.

"It’s about beating Weiss," corrected Blake, glaring at the black bikini her girlfriend had had the audacity to buy for her.

"That's absurd," lied Yang, badly, as she finished tying the strings of her own bikini top. "I mean, _yes_ , I'd like to raise more money that Weiss, but it's for charity. Of course I should. There's nothing wrong with that at all."

"Why can't I quit you," groaned Blake, as she reluctantly began changing. In her whole life she'd never worn so little in public before, even her choice of sleepwear was a conservative yukata. To her credit Yang had managed to get her size right, which in turn raised a slew of troubling questions, questions that would be answered in the privacy of their dorm room.

"Damn, girl, you lookin' fine," said Yang in jest, as she surveyed the now bikini-clad Blake Belladonna, a scarlet blush creeping across the faunus' face. The amount of cleavage the top revealed was positively scandalous, rivaling Yang's own wardrobe choices for impropriety, and Blake was sure her ass was fully exposed, no matter how many times she checked.

"You owe me for this," stated Blake, a finger jabbed into Yang's sternum.

"Oral sex for a week," promised Yang, with a grin.

"A whole week, _and_ you have to do it handcuffed," Blake appended. Yang scowled at that. While the blonde appreciated her girlfriend's broad spectrum of sexual interests, bondage was not one of the kinks they shared. Yang always hated being limited in any way, and that went triply so for when she was in the heat of passion; when she wanted to feel everything at once. Ropes keeping her from touching, gags denying her kisses… not Yang's style.

"Fine," Yang conceded with a growl. "But that means we're staying out there until we've got Weiss beat, _capeesh_?"

"Lead on," replied Blake with a dramatic flourish of her hand, and Yang's grim emerged once more.

It was ironic, for someone who hated being tied down, that Yang had elected to do exactly that to raise money. Arriving at their booth, Blake and Yang were guided to a pair of wooden constraints, a recreation of medieval-style stocks from Vale's bygone history. Seated on high-backed benches, their legs were fastened between two slabs of wood, bare soles turned out to the world. The wooden halves were kept locked in place by small pegs, which Blake probably could've reached and undid, had one of the girls running the booth not proceeded to fasten her hands overhead with a length of rope. The position was designed to accentuate their most prominent features, there was no getting around the shamelessness of it all, the locking of her legs together the only possible concession to modesty.

Yang, seated a few feet to Blake's right, was visibly annoyed by the restraints, already testing to see if she could squeeze her feet out of the stocks, how tight the knots binding her wrists were. Unlike the Dust-infused rope Blake preferred in the bedroom, Yang could probably break free of these off-the-shelf ropes with a small burst of her Aura and Semblance, though that of course would make her a spoilsport.

The restraints, Yang had explained to a weary Blake, were hardly necessary. While superficially they kept the participants in place, they were obvious there primarily as sex appeal. And let it never be said that Yang underestimated the power of sex appeal. It was shameless, really, but Blake should've foreseen the logical consequence of putting Yang in a position where she was at least implicitly competing with Weiss. Even if Yang thought the whole 'sorry for saving your asses' fundraiser was idiotic, there was no way she'd come second to the Ice Queen in anything.

EGGS  
Three lien  
  
WATER BALLOON  
Three lien  
  
SLIME BALLOON  
Five lien  
  
WHIPPED CREAM PIE (THROWN)  
Five lien  
  
WHIPPED CREAM PIE (HAND-DELIVERED)  
Eight lien  
  
BUCKET OF WATER  
Ten lien  
  
BUCKET OF SLIME  
Fifteen lien

_The things we do to make amends_ , Blake mused, as she glanced at the pricing chart arranged beside them.

The crowd wasn't out for blood the same way they have been for Weiss Schnee, but Yang and Blake made attractive targets nonetheless. Most things had to be tossed at their hapless forms from ten feet away, though an extra fee could be paid to get up and close to the two Huntress and ensure delivery. Blake toyed with the idea of activating her Semblance, sending a shadowy clone to take the hit a moment before she did, though she supposed that was poor form. With a sigh, she resigned herself to her to a messy day, her ass already falling asleep.

The first donor managed to land a whipped cream pie squarely in Yang's face, which was impressive given the distance. Yang let out an annoyed shout as the aluminum plate fell from her face, leaving a sticky white mess behind. She thrashed theatrically in her constraints, shoulders shaking and toes curling, though Blake knew she was just goading them on.

Yang couldn't be seen to be _enjoying_ herself. Certainly not.

Blake took the second hit, a water balloon breaking on her chest, and she winced as the splash soaked her torso. Call it stereotypical, but she hated getting wet. Though at least it wasn't the dunk tank. She idly wondered how the Heiress was holding up.

They got very messy very quickly, though the advantage of being soaked with water so many times was that it washed off the worst of the whipped cream and a good chunk of the slime, making them clean and attractive targets once more. Well, fairly clean, at least.

Yang swore as a whipped cream pie landed right on her breasts, which she shook off with a forceful wiggle. Blake had to concede there was something…. intriguing… about the way the cream seeped into her cleavage. Were they in the privacy of their own rooms, Blake would almost be inclined to li-

A pie caught her in the side of the face, her penalty for being distracted by her girlfriend's allure. The only really annoying part of this setup was the fact that she was unable to easily wipe her eyes, leaving her feeling genuinely grateful when a faunus student splashed her in the face with a whole bucket of water.

"Oh, you're bold _now_ , just wait until the next time we spar!" shouted Yang, as someone approached with a pie in hand. Her shouts were muffled by the whipped cream be pressed into her face. The blonde's hair was a mess of cream and yolk and whatever ungodly ingredients made up that slime.

The slime was definitely the worst, concluded Blake, as a pail of it was lovingly overturned above her head. She winced slightly as a green fluid with the consistency of treacle coated her hair and slid down her back. The worst thing was there were a dozen different variants of the messy solution - some watery, some thick as syrup, in a rainbow of colors from pink to brown. The assistants running the booth were hurriedly concocting more of the stuff, from what demotic recipes Blake had no idea.

"Oh, come on, not the hair!" groaned Yang, as one of the extra-syrupy variants was poured over her head. "Do you know how long that's going to take to get out?" The girl sliming Yang evidently _did_ , and let out a playful giggle as she skipped away from Yang's impotent rage.

_It's been while since I've had short hair_ , mused Blake, as a pie impacted her stock-bound feet. _Wonder if it's easier to cut it than wash this out_. A second pie landed squarely in her lap. _Maybe I'll ask Ruby and Nora_ …

"Okay, if one of you fuckers does that again…" began Yang, recovering from being splashed with a bucket of gunge head-on.

"Do you have any more rope left over?" asked Blake, calling out to one of the assistant girls running the booth. "I'll donate twenty lien if you can gag Yang with it."

_Turnabout is fair play, Yang._

"What? Oh you better not. You are _so_ dead if you even think of-" Yang's tirade - completely genuine this time - was cut short by a length of rope being pulled between her teeth, knotted clumsily but effectively behind her head. As gags went, a cleave gag was not particularly effective at muting sound _per se_ , though it did an excellent job of distorting Yang's threats and insults, which was all Blake really wanted. Someone ran up to slam a pie directly into Blake's face, depriving her the lovely image for several seconds.

_Yang was right about the sex appeal, though._

Despite being gagged Yang continued to make as much noise as possible, muffled words only adding to her attractiveness (at least in Blake's eye). The thick gag also had the collateral benefit of keeping Yang's mouth ever-so-slightly open, her teeth visible above and below the rope. The creams and slimes had a way of trickling past her lips now, causing her to spout all the more inarticulate insults. For safety reasons all of the slimes were concocted so as to be entirely edible, if not exactly tasty.

_Oh, schadenfreude, we meet again._

Blake dealt with her predicament much the way Weiss did, not that either would knowingly invite the comparison, stoically and largely silently taking whatever was dished out at them. Yang was righteous indignation given flesh, the fury in her eyes making her all the more inviting. Blake fought to maintain her dignity and composure, sending a dangerous scowl at whoever held pie or bucket, the unspoken danger of her silence making her tormentors feel all the more daring for soaking her.

Unlike Weiss, Yang had put no time limit on the length of their participation, though somewhere around the two-hour mark they ran out of new visitors and most of the implements of their torment. Sore and surprisingly exhausted, Blake let out a groan of relief as one of the assistants untied her hands, the Huntress instinctively rubbing her wrists where the coils had dug into her skin. The stocks were unlocked a moment later, allowing Blake to swing her legs freely for the first time in what felt like forever.

Standing upright was, admittedly, a rather unpleasant sensation. As the donations poured in she'd been coated in slime and cream and egg from almost every conceivable angle, and she felt it on her skin. Her hair was practically an alien creature at this point, so tangled and sticky, clinging in the weirdest of places.

Blake strolled over to Yang before the assistant could finish untying the brawler, pulling the gag out of her partner's mouth herself. Yang's eyes shone in a crimson fury, but her glare vanished the moment Blake pressed their lips together. It was a long, passionate kiss, Blake elongating it as she took Yang's face in her hands, sealing their lips, peeling away, and pressing together in a pattern of passion. The taste and smell were both off, though Blake found the sweetness of Yang's skin surprisingly enjoyable. There was something to be said for how they literally stuck together, too. And Blake could feel the brawler's pent-up passion burning for release.

The assistant finished untying Yang and hurriedly darted away from the impromptu make-out scene. Blake straddled Yang, letting her girlfriend's hands drift up her back in turn.

"I can't say for certain, but I'm pretty sure we beat Weiss," murmured Blake, lapping at some whipped cream still clinging to the side of Yang's face.

" _Mm_ ," Yang groaned back in response, higher-reasoning short-circuited by the feel of Blake's tongue against her. They continued kissing for several seconds, Yang's hand actually resting on the clasp of Blake's bikini top before belatedly remembering they were in public.

"Come on, let's get to the locker room," said Blake, the predatory glint in her eye bringing out the feline inside her.

Yang _loved_ it when Blake felt like hunting her.

 

**OMAKE**

"You know what I actually really like watching?" asked Yang Xiao Long, her tone rhetorical but her partner too well-attuned to her mental processes to resist answering.

"Mud wrestling," replied Blake, voice deadpan and disinterested.

"And do you know who I think is actually pretty hot?" Yang continued, not missing a beat as her monologue became a dialogue.

"Pyrrha Nikos."

"And do you know what I think she looks absolutely amazing in?"

"A skimpy two-piece swimsuit."

"And what am I looking at right now?"

"Pyrrha Nikos mud wrestling in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit."

_And it's just **sad.** ___

No one, apparently, had taken it upon themselves to inform Ms. Nikos that this was a _friendly, playful_ bout rather than a tournament qualifying match. Yes, she was wearing a skimpy white two-piece that left little of her muscled form to the imagination, but watching her dispatch one opponent after the other with ruthless efficiency was not Yang's idea of enjoyably messy foreplay.

Pyrrha darted forward, grabbing her opponent's leg and sending him toppling to the ground with lightning speed, deftly maneuvering him into a brutal heel hook and forcing the poor boy to tap out seconds later. Everyone looked vaguely discomforted as the referee pronounced Pyrrha Nikos the victor for the fourteenth consecutive match, the Mistrali warrior adjusting her top slightly while she waited for her opponent to limp out, before clasping her hands behind her back in a pose of martial confidence. If Pyrrha knew she was missing the point of bikini mud wrestling, there was no trace of it on her face.

Another hopeless challenger entering the mud pit with a grim expression on his face, probably regretting having signed that liability waiver to participate in the Pyrrha Nikos Charity Mud Wrestling Tournament. It was the sexiest scenario Yang could conceive of, being played out before her eyes. And it had become the sexual fantasy equivalent of traveling to Schnee Dust World and realizing all her superheroines were just underpaid teenagers in costumes.

Yang sighed a mournful sigh for all the fantasies killed by the cruel hand of reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Feels slightly shorter than I'd have liked, but this is kind of the thing I just wanted to finish quickly. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
